


Practical Certainties

by orbythesea



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1302535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbythesea/pseuds/orbythesea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He really doesn't know her well enough.  Not yet, at least.  He will.  He's sure of that the way he used to be sure when he threw a ball.  Georgetown-era.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practical Certainties

"Alicia's staying here over Christmas," Janice announces. "Who does that?"

"I'm staying here," Will points out.

"Yeah, but your family's, like, an hour away. She's not from here." Janice bites down hard on a chip as if to enunciate her point.

He's not from here, either, but it's not a point worth arguing. He knows what she means. "Maybe she can't afford it," he says. It makes him sad, thinking about that. His family's not rich, and money's been tight lately, but he never worried about getting home during the holidays, either. 

"Maybe?" Janice shrugs. "Not like she'd tell me. She just said she was staying here so I shouldn't worry about getting someone to take care of my cat."

Will nods, sucking hard on his straw. Janice likes to gossip, but that's never been Will's thing. They knew each other a little in undergrad and he lives two floors up, so he puts up with it here because during the first few weeks it was nice to have a familiar face around. As the semester's gone on, though, he's realized that he doesn't actually like her all that much. She hears everything and never hesitates to repeat it—often with commentary—but she doesn't _see_ much of anything at all. 

No wonder she thinks her roommate's weird. Alicia's quiet. Janice probably doesn't know what to make of her.

"You could always ask," he points out.

"Like she'd tell me," Janice shoots back. 

_Maybe she just doesn't want everyone else to know_ , Will thinks, but he doesn't say it. "Probably not," he says instead. "I've got to get back to the library."

In the library, there's someone in his favorite study room so he heads upstairs to find another spot. Alicia's on one of the couches with her legs tucked under her and a casebook open in her lap. He finds a table a dozen feet away with an unobstructed view. He tries to tell himself that it's not creepy because he's actually going to study and he almost convinces himself of it.

The thing is, for all that Janice is frustrated by Alicia, Will is fascinated. She's clearly smart—really smart—but she doesn't show it off or boast about it the way some people do. If Janice sees nothing, he's pretty sure Alicia sees everything.

She seems pretty absorbed, so he lets himself watch her for a moment, tries to read her. She's got her hair pulled back into a ponytail, but a couple of curls have worked their way free and she's twisting one of them around her finger, dropping it only when she needs to turn the page. Her Georgetown hoodie is the same as the one he's been wearing all week, but it looks a hell of a lot better on her. Her jeans are clean and her Chuck Taylors look newer than his but, objectively, there's nothing remarkable about her. She looks like a law student, like every law student. If she wasn't gorgeous, she might manage to blend into the crowd so well as to go completely unnoticed. 

She looks up to stretch and he quickly looks down at his own book, then kicks himself. Nothing says 'I've been staring at _you_ , not off into space' like refusing to make eye contact. The thing is, he's really not trying to be creepy. He's not checking her out, he's just curious. She's a puzzle and he wants to see how the pieces fit together, how someone like Alicia Cavanaugh ends up in law school. Everyone's here for a reason. They like the idea of saving the world, they like to fight. They want to get rich, get elected, get their parents off their backs.

(Case in point: he's here because he likes to win, because it makes his dad happy, and because he was too stubborn to admit that his shoulder was bothering him until he had a torn rotator cuff and a six month rehab plan instead of a pitching season. Not that he's bitter. At least, not that he'd admit to being bitter.)

He doesn't want her to think he's creepy and figures that the best way not to seem creepy is not to _be_ creepy so he keeps his eyes on his book and doesn't look up again until he's finished reading for tomorrow's Torts and Wednesday's Civ Pro. It's almost midnight when he finally packs everything back into his bag to go home. She's still in the same spot on the couch, though she's tugged her hair free from her ponytail. Not that he's looking. Really. He shoots her a tiny smile that he's pretty sure she doesn't catch on his way out.

In the elevator, he hears someone calling for him to hold the door and he sticks his arm out, pushing against it. 

"Thanks," she says, stepping into the elevator with him.

"Yeah, sure." He shoots her a smile again, shifting awkwardly. "Hey, sorry about earlier," he says, focusing on the elevator door. "I wasn't trying to stare at you or be creepy or anything." He regrets it as soon as the words are out.

"It's okay," she says. "Honestly, Will, I didn't think you were."

He nods and lets himself look over at her. She's smiling. "Yeah? Well, good. Because I wasn't." It feels like it should be weird, but it's not, somehow. It's because she meant it, he realizes. His own smile gets bigger. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

She nods, and her smile doesn't budge but something changes. Her eyes, maybe. "Yeah," she says, after a moment. "Sure."

He loses his nerve. "You know that diner, down on C? Do you know if it's open all night?" It is, and he knows it, but it's the first thing he can think to ask that's not about her. 

"It is," she confirms, and the weird tension in the air dissipates. "Were you thinking about going?"

"Yeah, maybe," he says. He wasn't really planning on it; he's got leftover Chinese in the fridge. "I've got leftovers at home, but… "

"I like it in the middle of the night," she offers. "It's actually a good place to study."

The elevator doors open. "Thanks," he says, stepping out.

"I'm going," she says, quickly. "I mean, not much else is open and I haven't eaten, so if you're not feeling leftovers...."

He grins. "Yeah," he says. "Let's do it."

"You're friends with Janice, right?" she asks, but he knows that she knows the answer.

"Kind of?" he says, hedging a bit anyway. "I mean, we knew each other in college a little, so… "

"Yeah." Alicia hesitates. "How do you ever get a word in edgewise?"

Will _laughs_ then, and Alicia grins so broadly that it makes his skin prickle. Janice really doesn't know her at all.

Over biscuits and gravy (his), waffles (hers), and their fourth pot of coffee, he finally finds a moment to ask her what she's doing in law school.

"It just seemed like the thing to do," she says, withdrawing a bit into herself for a moment. "I mean— I was an English major, so…" She shrugs. "Also," she adds, and it sounds like an afterthought but it _feels_ like she's about to say something that _matters_ , "I was always kind of the peacemaker in my family, you know? I was the one to try to find the right compromises, to keep everyone happy, to keep everything from falling apart." She ducks her head and a bit of hair falls over her face. "Anyway, I think I'll be good at it." She takes a sip of coffee and drops her eyes but not before he catches a glimpse of all the sadness that hides behind them. For a moment, it hurts to look at her.

"Yeah," he says, softly. "That's— yeah." He wants to reach for her hand or something, but he really doesn't know her well enough. Not yet, at least. He will. He's sure of that the way he used to be sure when he threw a ball. It's that same feeling, his body positively singing with the rightness of it. "That's a better reason than I've got, anyway." 

"Yeah?" She doesn't look up, doesn't look all that interested, even. Then she blinks and it's like the sadness that enveloped her is gone, as if it was never there to begin with. "So why are you here, then?"

"I like to argue," he says, deadpan, and she laughs. He tells her then. He tells her about his shoulder and the game he just _had_ to play, about the surgery and the summer of painkillers and physical therapy and worrying that he'd have to transfer or drop out if he couldn't get the money in place to stay without the athletic scholarship. He tells her about his dad and the pressure to conform, to grow up, to stop acting like he was anything special. She nods, watching him over her coffee cup and he finds himself saying more than he meant to. For the first time, he admits that it's his own damn fault. Even Helena hasn't heard that. "So yeah," he says, suddenly shy. "Basically, I’m just a dumb, stubborn jock."

"You're not," she counters. "I mean, you are, but it's okay."

He laughs, and for the first time since his surgery, he starts to feel like maybe everything's going to be okay after all.

They start spending more time together, after that. At first, it's just a smile across the room, the feeling of being watched while he briefs cases. Then one day, she's sitting in his chair.

"You're in my spot," he whispers, sinking down next to her. 

"Am I?" she asks. "I wasn't aware that you had any exclusive possessory right." She smirks at him, and he wants suddenly to kiss the smirk off her face. He blinks the thought away. He needs to get Helena out here over Thanksgiving. He needs to get _laid._

"Shut up," he mumbles, fumbling around in his backpack in hopes of hiding his blush. 

From then on, they read together, study together, talk through hypos and complain about professors and drink way too much coffee together. They're not inseparable, but they might as well be. It's a friendship, sort of, but mostly it's a working relationship. It's the best damn working relationship he's ever had. Come to think of it, it's the best damn friendship he's ever had, too. They compliment each other well, he thinks. He's brash and impulsive; she's reserved and thoughtful. He brings her out of his shell and she keeps him out of trouble. She _gets_ things in a way he has to struggle for. She moves through the law intuitively; he feels like he's swimming through molasses.

"Are you guys fucking?" Janice asks him one day in November when he shows up early for a marathon weekend of outlining and Alicia's still in the shower.

"Is it any of your business?" he shoots back, but then he remembers that it's Janice and there's a very good chance that if he doesn't shut it down now, it'll be all over school by Monday. "No. We're not fucking."

"You sure?" She looks dubious.

"Very." His voice is as firm as he knows how to make it. "I’m still with Helena, anyway. You remember Helena. My girlfriend? From your sorority thing?"

"Unh hunh." Janice looks dubious. "It is possible to have a girlfriend and be fucking someone else, you know."

He knows. He knows all too well. "Yeah, but come on. It's Alicia. You really think _Alicia_ would go for that?"

"Saint Alicia, you mean? I don't even think she has a sex drive," Janice admits. "Think she's a virgin?"

He knows for a fact that she's not, but he's not about to tell Janice that. "I think it's none of our business." 

"What's none of your business?"

They both jump at the sound of Alicia's voice. 

"I was just wondering— "

"If Professor Alexander's gay." He cuts Janice off and she scowls at him.

"Married," Alicia says. "Two kids. Haven't you ever seen the picture on his desk?" She's twisting a mess of wet curls up into a scrunchie and she sounds _so_ casual but Will can still spot the glint of pride in her eyes. _I know something Janice doesn't,_ her eyes seem to say. Will wants to tell her that there are a million things that she knows and Janice doesn't, but he holds his tongue.

"No. Because I don't go hang out in his office like a gunner." Janice's tone is pointed, irritated, and Will's suddenly afraid that he might have to break up a cat fight, but Alicia just shrugs.

"You ready?" she asks him. 

He nods, relieved, and reaches for his backpack again. "Let's go conquer defensive non-mutual collateral estoppel," he says.

"You mean let's go so I can explain defensive non-mutual collateral estoppel to you?" She's grinning, now.

"I understand it just fine," he shoots back. "Mostly. Sort of."

"It's okay," Alicia says, deadpan. "I've heard that they don't actually give Fs in law school."

"See, you say that, but that's what they told me about French— "

By the time they finally make it out the door, it's pouring rain, and they head downstairs to his apartment instead. They spend the weekend there, her with her legs tucked under her on his futon, him circling the room and tossing crumpled sheets of paper across the room and into the trash can, like he's trying to impress her or something. He's not. He's still with Helena. Really.

"I think I've forgotten the difference between purposely and knowingly," she admits after they've given up on Civ Pro and moved on to Crim. "In practice, I mean. I know— I know the language."

WIll arches an eyebrow and he's surprised and delighted and she glares at him.

"Don't give me that look," she says and he laughs.

"It's the difference between wanting something to happen and knowing it's going to happen," he says. He picks up his baseball from the table and tosses it against the wall. "If I wanted to break my window, and I threw the ball at the window, I'd be purposely breaking the window," he says. "If I didn't want to break my window, but I threw the ball at the window, I'd be knowingly breaking it." 

"But why would you throw the ball at the window if you didn't want to break it?" she counters. "That's the part I don't get."

Will sighs. "I wouldn't," he admits. He tosses the ball a few more times. "I think Professor Cole had the better example, in class. I want to kill my girlfriend, and I know she's getting on a plane, so I put a bomb on the plane. I also know that if the bomb goes off, it'll probably kill everyone else on the plane, too. I don't really give a damn about them, and frankly I'd be happy if they lived. I just want Helena dead. So I've purposely killed Helena and knowingly killed everyone else on the plane."

"But it all comes down to being able to discern the contents of someone else's mind," she says. "And that's— It's a stupid way to do things because how could you possibly prove that? How can a jury possibly conclude, beyond a reasonable doubt, what someone was thinking? " She stretches, her back arching and her breasts jutting out towards him and for a second he thinks about Janice, earlier, thinks about Janice and Helena and how having a girlfriend doesn't _necessarily_ preclude the possibility of sleeping with Alicia. 

He clears his throat. "That's the great thing about law school, though," he says, shaking his head to clear it. "We don't have to worry about proving anything until we take Evidence or Trial Ad. Cole's gonna tell us what's in everyone's head on the final."

"No, I know," she says. "I just mean, more generally. It's an inherently flawed standard, because extrinsic evidence of _thought_ can't possibly lift anything beyond a reasonable doubt. And the difference between wanting something to happen and knowing that it's inevitable is such a fine line… " She sighs.

"Practically certain," he corrects. "That's different from inevitable. Practically certain allows for the _possibility_ that it might not actually come to pass."

"Maybe," she admits. "Maybe."

The next few weeks are a blur of studying, taking exams, and celebrating over beer and popcorn when they tick one more exam off the list. At four-oh-one on December 20th they walk out of their Crim exam and he pulls her into a hug. 

Later, they go back to his place for celebratory beer. He's not sure what she brought, but she clearly considers the end of the semester to be a truly special occasion because it's something expensive and imported. He's not convinced that it's that much better than Natty Boh, but considering how many times they've both compared Natty Boh to Potomac water, he's not about to complain.

He makes her watch _Blues Brothers_ because she's never seen it and to his mind, that might be the most mysterious thing about her. She's still laughing and relaxed as the credits roll and he finally screws up the courage to ask her.

"You're still hanging around here over the break, right?" He tries to be casual about it, like it's not a subject he's wanted to broach for a while now.

"I— " Her smile fades a bit and she nods. "My dad's really busy with work and my mom's in Alaska," she explains. "Getting engaged. Or saving whales. Or writing a book. I don't know, something."

"Are you sure she's not writing a book about marrying a whale?" he asks in his best deadpan, the one that never fails to make her press her lips together as she tries to hide her smile.

She does, at first, then rewards him with a full, genuine laugh. "Could be," she says through her giggles. "Why?"

"My folks moved up to Baltimore, last year," he says. "I'm driving up for Christmas and I figured, you know, if you didn't have plans— "

Her laughter fades, then, and she cocks her head to the side. 

"Just for the day," he adds, quickly. "My sisters are going to be there, so I get it if you don't want to. The full Gardner family experience isn't exactly— "

"Yeah," she says. "Maybe, yeah. I mean, my brother was going to drive up but he met some guy so he's probably blowing me off, so— Yeah." She shoots him a tiny, tentative smile, and he has to work hard to contain his grin. 

"Great," he says. "But seriously, my sisters are— I mean, Aubrey's in this like, goth phase, with the black lipstick and everything and Sarah's bringing her boyfriend who she seems to think is going to be president someday or something and—"

"Wow, that was quick," she says. She's doing that thing where she withdraws into herself a little bit, like she's trying to make herself invisible. It's how he knows he's crossed a line with her, asked more than she's willing to say, but he doesn't know what he's done wrong this time.

"What was quick?" He tries to make his confusion visible, tries to signal to her that whatever he's done, he's sorry.

"You didn't think I'd say yes," she says, quietly. "It's okay, I won't— "

"What? No!" He shakes his head, vehement. "Leesh, no, I just meant— I just wanted to warn you." _I just wanted to make sure that you'll still like me, even after you meet my family_ , is what he wants to say, but she doesn't give him the chance.

"'Leesh?'" she says, dubious.

He reaches for his beer and takes a long swallow. "Yeah, you know, like 'Alicia" but with fewer syllables. Haven't you ever had a nickname before?"

"Owen used to call me Lychee," she says. "And Ali, in high school, for a little while. I was trying to be— " She shakes her head. "But Leesh just sounds like…"

"You were trying to be what?" he asks. He's got his sweet voice on, now, the one Aubrey teases him about all the time.

"I'm just saying, I'm not a dog trainer," she mumbles, tugging her knees up against her chest.

"I didn't think that you were," he murmurs, watching her. "I— I don't know what I’m doing wrong here," he admits after a moment and another sip of beer.

She shakes her head. "Forget it, it's— If you meant it, I'd love to experience a Gardner family Christmas."

He reaches over to squeeze her knee. "I meant it," he whispers, eyes searching for hers. "Promise."

Her eyes dart down to his hand, then back up to his. "Dammit," she mutters, shaking her head. "Now I have to buy you a present and everything." She smirks and he breathes a sigh of relief. They're okay. Somehow.

As predicted, dinner is awkward. "Just a friend," doesn't seem to get through to Aubrey, and after plates have been cleared, Sarah alternates between grilling Alicia and taking over, telling her everything that's right and wrong about the answers she gives.

He mouths 'I'm sorry,' when she glances over at him, nudges her knee with his own.

"You know what?" she says, interrupting Sarah's latest question. " _I_ am going to see if I can help your mom with the dishes." She nudges Will's knee back before she gets up and walks out of the room, leaving Sarah with her jaw on the floor.

"I liked Helena better," Sarah says, once she's remembered how to speak.

"I like Helena too," Will shoots back. "Which is good, considering that she's my _girlfriend_ and Alicia's just— " The thing is, Alicia's not _just_ anything. Hasn't been for a while. "Helena's coming out next week."

He finds Alicia a few moments later, leaning against the empty sink and staring out the window to the backyard. "Sorry about them," he whispers, coming up next to her. "I tried to warn you— "

"Will." She shakes her head and shoots him the thinest of her smiles. "They're fine. They're great." Her smile—and her tone—brighten, but she won't meet his eyes.

"Yeah," he whispers. "You know that I know you better than you think, right?" Her eyes dart to him, alarmed, and he can see the tears she's been holding back. So that's why she wouldn't look at him. "So… "

"It's not them," she whispers, and he believes her this time. "Will, it's not, it's— I don't mean— I just— Thank you. For inviting me to your family Christmas." Her voice catches on the word _family_ and she manages a tiny, watery smile.

He pulls her into a hug, holding her tight and breathing in the smell of her hair. "Anytime," he whispers, and he means it. There is so much more that he wants to say, but he doesn't dare. "Anytime," he repeats, and he hopes she understands. "If you want to call your— " 

"No, it's okay," she says, quickly. "Will, I— "

"Oh, hey, you guys found the mistletoe!" Aubrey's voice is too loud for the moment, too strident, and Will cringes as Alicia jumps back.

"Friends, Aubrey. Helena's coming out next week and— "

"I don't care, there's mistletoe. There are _rules_ , Will." Alicia won't meet his eyes and Will wants nothing more than to sink into the floor right now, but Aubrey is oblivious. "Sarah! They found the mistletoe!"

"No, we didn't," he says, stepping away from Alicia, away from the damned mistletoe that neither of them noticed. "We were just doing dishes. That's— "

"That's not what it looked like to _me_ ," Aubrey shoots back, and if Alicia wasn't there Will might laugh at the way her toothy grin seems utterly out of place behind all of that black lipstick. "Will and Alicia sitting in a— "

"Oh my God, are you _twelve_?" he snaps as Sarah appears in the doorway. "Great," he mutters.

"I thought you _liked_ things with rules," Sarah adds. "Baseball, law school— "

"Just one little kiss," Aubrey adds.

"Then we'll leave you alone. Promise." Sarah's smirking now, and he knows that there's no way this ends well.

"Sarah— "

"Fine," Alicia says, and the sound of her voice damn near floors him. "Rules _are_ rules," she adds, shooting Will a smile that manages to be both shy and mischievous at the same time.

"I— Okay," he whispers, eyes seeking hers. "Okay." He steps back to her, brings a hand up to her cheek. _You don't have to do this if you don't want to,_ he wants to say. _I don't want the first time I kiss you to be because they made you do it._

She takes a deep breath, looks up at him expectantly than nods, a tiny, almost imperceptible thing. He can't read her. He thinks maybe all of the times that he can are because she lets him. He leans in, just a bit, and she nods again. When his lips brush hers, Sarah and Aubrey hoot and laugh and it wasn't supposed to be like this. Still, her lips are soft and inviting and she lingers just a moment longer than mistletoe requires. It's all over in a matter of seconds, and when they part her cheeks are redder than he's ever seen them and he's pretty sure he's blushing all the way down to his toes.

"So you'll leave us alone now?" he mumbles, but he can't tear his eyes away from Alicia. "That was the deal."

"Rules are rules," Alicia adds, shooting his sisters the most withering glare he's ever seen.

She's quiet for the rest of the evening and spends the drive back to DC staring out the window.

"Look, Alicia— " he starts as he turns onto New Jersey Avenue. "I didn't mean to— "

"I love this song," she says, cutting him off and reaching to turn up the volume on the radio. 

John Lennon's voice fills the car and he rolls his eyes. " _Happy Christmas_?" he says. "With Yoko? Really?"

"War is over," she says, and he can't tell if she's being serious or deadpan.

"If you want it," he adds, shooting her a smile.

"Yep," she says, grinning at him before she breaks out into the chorus. It's the first time he's ever heard her sing.

"It's a good thing I like you, you know," he says, raising his voice to be heard over the music. "If I didn't, I'd have a problem with this."

"Sorry." She turns the volume down, shooting him a sheepish grin. "My mom can sing," she adds after a moment. "I remember this one time, I was probably— It was right after she and my dad split the first time, so I must have been twelve or thirteen, and we were staying at some hotel or another and— She was probably drunk, and she somehow talked the pianist into playing what she wanted and she just… she just held court there in the lobby for hours and kept pointing over at me, trying to get me to go sing something with her— " She looks away. "She got the whole place chanting my name and wouldn't give me the room key until I got up there with her."

"That's— " He doesn't know what to say to that, not really. He can't picture it.

"That's my mom," she says. "She's— " She shakes her head. "She's never been like— oh, hey, there's a spot— " She points to the spot right in front of their building, the one that's never open because of the guy in 3-A who walks everywhere but leaves his car there anyway.

Will slams on his brakes and parks, and he feels suddenly and inexplicably sad that they're home, that the day is over. _If you want it._ He smiles. "You wanna come up and watch a movie?" he asks.

"I— Maybe. At my place, though? I've been neglecting the cat." She shoots him a sheepish smile, then she's out of the car. "I've got a present for you, too," she adds.

"You didn't have to— " he starts, but she cuts him off with a shake of her head.

"Don't get too excited, it's just a little thing I saw when I was out the other day." She holds the door open for him and he steps inside. The heat is going full blast and he can't get out of his coat fast enough.

"Just give me ten minutes," he says when she stops on her floor. "I'll grab videos." 

He takes the stairs two at a time and throws his coat and scarf on the futon. He grabs the extra copy of _Blues Brothers_ that he picked up at the video place on Fifth, already wrapped and ready to go. It doesn't feel like _enough_ , somehow, so he scrambles to find the package of Christmas cards that he picked up but never found time to address. He finds them under a pair of gym shorts on top of his dresser. They seem cheap and tacky, all of a sudden, and a shower of glitter flies everywhere as he tears open the package. Still, he grabs his nicest pen and sits down to write. 

_Alicia_ , he begins, because that's how you start a Christmas card. _Merry Christmas_ , he adds, but then he feels stupid because the card says 'Merry Christmas.' _It's been one hell of a ride, so far, but we made it, and we'll keep making it, and we'll be brilliant._ He frowns, because that makes it sound like it's all about him, all about school. It says nothing about _her_. He's about to reach for a second card when he stops himself. _You'll be brilliant,_ he adds instead. _You are brilliant. Just remember to laugh. You've got such a great laugh._ He can't decide how to sign it, whether _love_ or _sincerely_ or _XOXO_ is appropriate, so he just scrawls his name and tucks the card into an envelope before he can change his mind. 

Her gift gets tossed in a bag along with half the contents of his video shelf, a package of microwave popcorn, and a six pack of beer. He races back downstairs and she responds to his knock with "It's open!" so he pushes inside. She's pacing in the living room, phone pressed to her ear.

"Owen, just come here then," she says. "No, don't worry about gas money, I can get you back. No, no, it's fine, Mom sent me a check, so— Good. Just— Drive carefully. And stop for the night, if you get tired. And no drinking."

He feels like he's intruding, somehow, but she grins at him and waves him in so he fishes two bottles out of the bag. She waves him off so he sets it on the table and opens his own.

"I'll see you soon," she says, and when she hangs up, she's smiling. "My brother's coming out for a few days," she tells him. "He had a fight with his boyfriend and he says that everything's just too depressing in Chicago, so he's gonna drive out for a few days."

Will grins, taking a sip of his beer. "Do I get to meet him?" he asks, and Alicia pretends to consider the request. "I showed you mine," he points out. 

"Owen's worse," she teases. "Much, much worse." 

"You think I'm worried?" he asks. He fishes her gift out of the bag and holds it out to her. "I'm looking forward to it!"

She rolls her eyes and carefully peels the paper away, then grins when the movie's unwrapped. "Funny," she says, and he laughs.

"There's a card, too," he says, handing that over as well.

More glitter spills out when she opens the envelope, and she ignores the banal, tacky snowman to read the inside. "Thank you," she whispers, looking up at him. "Will— "

"You're welcome," he murmurs. The moment feels heavier than he meant it to, and he shoves his hands in his pockets, embarrassed. "So where's my present?" he asks. 

"Be right back," she says. She ducks into her room and returns clutching a small package wrapped in newspaper. She looks nervous, somehow, and it's strange. This whole day has been strange.

The first thing he spots when he gets the paper off is more paper, and he almost tosses it aside when he notices the wide loops of her handwriting. _You're not doing anything wrong_ , she has scrawled in blue highlighter over a yellow post-it note, and when he peels it away, all he can do is laugh. It's a dog collar. She got him a dog collar.

She laughs too, and it's an amazing thing, watching her nerves give way to giggles. "I'm sorry I've been so— "

"Don't worry about it," he murmurs, touched. "Leesh," he adds. He half expects her to hit him, but she doesn't, just smiles softly and he remembers that only a few hours ago he was kissing her, not that it was much of a kiss. He wants to do it again. Wants that more than he wants anything. "Alicia," he breathes, taking a step closer to her. When she doesn't back away, he brushes a curl behind her ear, fingers lingering for too long against her cheek. 

"Will," she breathes, and it feels like it's both an invitation and a warning. When his lips find hers, this time, it is more than a brush, and soon her hands are in his hair, clutching at his neck, gripping his shoulder blades. She pulls him closer and he keeps moving forward until her back is up against a wall and he's flush against her, mouth begging against hers and, fuck, he's getting hard and he should pull away before she notices but then she groans his name and he thinks it's the sexiest thing he's ever heard.

"Want me to stop?" he murmurs, lips moving to her jaw. _Please say no, please say no._

"Don't you dare," she growls and he laughs. 

They move from the wall to her couch and he just can't stop kissing her, can't stop touching her, can't believe he _can_ kiss her, that she's not telling him to stop. _I love you,_ he thinks, and he's about to give voice to the thought when her phone rings and she pulls away.

"I should get that," she murmurs, reluctantly.

"Or you could let the machine get it," he suggests. His hand is cupping her breast through her shirt and he pinches her nipple, makes her gasp.

"Mmhmm," she agrees, letting it ring. Still, she seems suddenly tense, and he doesn't want to press her so he keeps his kisses soft and gentle, releases her breast to stroke the soft skin of her arm. 

_You've reached Janice and Alicia, we can't come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number, we'll get back to you as soon as we can,_ her voice intones from across the room. There is a beep, then a male voice. "Alicia, it's me," the voice says and she pushes him away and lunges across the room. "I know you're there, Sis, so pick up the phone. Okay, well, I'm just going to keep talking until you— "

"Owen," she says into the phone, and she sounds breathless, sounds annoyed. There's something else in her voice, too. Worry and care and so much love it makes him ache a little bit inside. "What's wrong?"

The cat jumps up onto the couch, scratches the cushion Alicia had been pressed against before turning twice, shooting Will an accusatory glare, and curling into a ball. 

"Oh? Owen, that's great. No, no, it's— Owen, it's _fine_ ," she says. "I'm glad you and Scott— No, seriously, I'm not upset. It was last-minute anyway." She sounds like she means it, but Will can see her face and it's devastating, the way the light has slipped out of her eyes. "Okay, no, I definitely do _not_ want details. Oh, come _on_ , Owen— I'm hanging up now," she says. She does, then shoots Will an apologetic glance. "Sorry," she murmurs.

He shakes his head. "For what?" He reaches for her but she doesn't come, just picks up the beer he abandoned earlier, letting the bottle dangle between her fingers for a moment before taking a sip. It feels a bit like he's watching a scene on television, watching the moment slip away and he's powerless to get it back.

"Owen's not coming," she says, putting on a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "He and the boyfriend made up, so… "

Will nods. "Yeah," he says. "I'm sorry."

Alicia shrugs. "It's Owen. He's… flakey." She takes another sip of his beer.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks and she shakes her head. "Do you wanna keep making out on the couch?"

She laughs, then stops, watching him. "You— Isn't Helena coming out for New Year's?"

Will nods, chastised and ashamed. "Yeah," he admits. "I— " _Say the word and I'll tell her not to come._

"Let's watch a movie," Alicia interrupts. "I'll make popcorn."

He blinks, feels his heart slowly sinking into his stomach. "Okay," he says, still sitting there dumbly on the couch. "I brought a bag down, if you— "

"I've got some," she murmurs before disappearing into her kitchen. 

He wants to go help her, wants to say something, wants to slide his fingers through hers and explain that the thing with Helena doesn't mean nearly as much to him as he's been pretending it does. He gets up, then leans in the doorway to the kitchen, watching her. "Look, Alicia— "

"No, don't," she says. "It was— I got caught up in the moment. I shouldn't have— "

"No, _I_ got caught up in the moment," he counters. He thinks about adding _I look at you and I forget that Helena exists_ , but even in his head it sounds like some cheesy line designed to get into her pants, and more than he wants that, he wants them to be okay. Wants her to be okay. "So… let's watch a movie."

She nods, and they kick the cat off the couch to giggle over _Blues Brothers_ and kill a six-pack and a bowl of popcorn. She stops laughing before the final car chase, and when he looks over her eyes are closed and her breathing has slowed and she looks more peaceful than he's ever seen her. He covers her with a blanket, kisses her forehead, and whispers, "Merry Christmas," before he slips out the door.

Two days later he picks Helena up at Dulles and she's exactly as he remembers her. She's loud and brash and way too much like Janice for him to keep from drawing the comparison. Still, he fucks her the second his apartment door is closed, and it feels like such a relief, getting that out of his system. _Out of the way_ , says the voice that nags at the back of his mind, but he pushes it aside. 

They run into Alicia the morning of New Year's Eve. She's going out as they're going in, and he stops her on the stoop with a smile and the brush of his hand at her wrist. "Hey," he murmurs. _I'm sorry_ , he wants to say. "Got any plans tonight?"

She looks from him to Helena and back. "I do," she says, but he can tell she's lying. "One of the 3Ls is having a party, so… "

"Yeah," he mumbles. There's so much more that he wants to say, but Helena doesn't give him the chance.

"It's nice to meet you," Helena says, and it's pointed and almost rude and then he realizes that, actually, he's the one being rude. 

"Alicia," she says, politely extending a hand. "You're Helena, right? Will's told me _so_ much about you."

He hasn't, actually. Even before Christmas, he tried to say as little as possible about Helena, and at first he couldn't figure out why.

"Oh, _Alicia_ ," Helena's voice is oozing recognition, and even as she shakes Alicia's hand, she's glaring at Will. "He's told me a lot about you, too." That much is probably true, he realizes, but Helena's still talking. "But it's funny," she adds, withdrawing her hand. "He never told me you were so pretty."

Will's about to jump in, to try to fix it, but Alicia just laughs. "We're just friends," she says. "I kept him from failing Civ Pro, he taught me everything there is to know about _mens rea_." 

"Right," Will says, and he wishes more than anything that he could sink into the concrete. "Well, look, we were going in to grab lunch and a nap, so… "

Alicia nods. "I'll see you around," she murmurs, heading down the steps. 

Helena's got a hand resting at the small of his back and he wishes he could pull away, wishes he could run after Alicia to apologize, to explain, to fix everything. To fix _anything_. 

"You told me she was a nerd," Helena says when they're back in his apartment.

"She is," he says with a shrug. "You haven't seen the way she takes notes. Turkey or roast beef?" He's got his head in the refrigerator.

"Will." Helena's not buying it, and he doesn't blame her.

"Look, there's nothing _there_ ," he insists, looking up. "She's just— Her nickname around school is Saint Alicia. She's not that kind of girl." He hates himself in that moment. He hates himself more than he has ever hated anyone in his life.

Helena's still looking at him like he's full of shit and he shuts the refrigerator door and moves back to her. "It's not like that," he murmurs, as contrite as he can manage. "We just work well together." He kisses her, pours everything he has into it, into making her not hurt. She resists at first, but soon she's tugging at his fly and then he's pulling her skirt up around her waist and he silently begs forgiveness with his mouth between her legs and when she comes, he's pretty sure he's achieved it. 

He feels like shit, afterwards. They eat lunch and chat about the Cubs and he tries as hard as he can to stay focused and engaged but all he can think is that he's totally fucked. 

"You okay?" she asks him and he shrugs.

"I'm tired," he admits. "Still catching up from finals, I think. I'm gonna take a nap."

She doesn't come with him, and he hugs his pillow to his chest and tries to figure out what the fuck he's doing with his life. He was going to end it before she went home, but now he can't. Now if he does, she'll think—no, she'll _know_ —that it's about Alicia and he doesn't want to hurt her like that. Doesn't want her to think that she's second-best because until Alicia walked into his life, he thought that Helena could be the real thing. He feels trapped, feels like whatever he does someone's going to get hurt and when he finally drifts off to sleep, he dreams about both of them, dreams about hands and mouths, dreams that he's tied to his bed while they touch and kiss and caress and it's fucking hot but it's not what he wants. He tries to tell them but he can't speak, tries to reach for them but his wrists are bound so all he can do is watch as Helena runs her fingers through Alicia's hair and spreads Alicia's legs wide. "Look at me," Helena orders him and he tries, he tries so hard but her hands are covering Alicia's breasts and her mouth is fast at work between Alicia's thighs and when she makes Alicia cry out it's Will's name on her lips and he's gone right along with her. 

He jerks awake and _fuck_ that hasn't happened to him since high school. He strips off his boxers and surveys the damage to the sheets, decides that it'll be less conspicuous to leave it, for now. He grabs a towel and heads towards the bathroom to clean up, mumbling something about a shower to Helena. Under the hot spray, he decides that before he does anything, he really needs to talk to Alicia.

She avoids him for the rest of the break, and the next time he sees her, she's sliding into the chair next to his on their first day of Property. 

"Haven't seen you around much," he says, softly.

She shrugs. "You had company," she says. "I didn't want to intrude."

"Alicia," he murmurs, voice pained. "Can we maybe— "

"After class," she says. "Before Con Law."

He nods, and he's so distracted by the thought of it that he can't focus, can't make sense of first possession at all, and it's funny because when you think about it, if it weren't for first-in-time rules, there wouldn't be a problem.

"Will," she says, nudging him. "You, um, you kind of spaced out there."

He blinks. Class is over but he's still sitting there, pen still in hand. Whoops. "Yeah," he shoots her a sheepish grin. "It's just, you know, who cares about foxes?"

Alicia chuckles as he shoves his notebook into his bag, asks if he wants to grab lunch or coffee or— 

"Anything's fine," he murmurs. "Just… Can we talk?" He's never been this direct, but he needs to be, now. He needs to make it clear that it matters. "And can I get your notes from today?" he adds, just in case. In case she's going to say no.

"Sure," she says, then, "And, I think, coffee. For you, at least."

Sitting in the coffee shop across the street from their building, he decides to lay his cards out on the table, to say everything he's been thinking for the past few weeks, past few months, and let her do with them as she will. "I wanted to apologize," he starts. "I shouldn't have— I shouldn't have put you in that position, between Helena and me and— "

"Will, it's _fine_ ," she says, cutting him off. "Really, it was just a weird day or a weird moment and—"

"Yes, but— I like you," he says. _I love you_ , he thinks. "I mean, I— I really, really like you, and the thing with Helena is— "

"Will, I get it," she says, cutting him off. "It's fine. Can we just—?"

"But you're not getting it," he says, and he's frustrated and wishes that she would just let him get out what he wants to say, wishes she would stop interrupting just when he's getting close. Then he thinks that maybe she's doing it on purpose. Maybe she doesn't want to hear it. He takes as sip of his coffee, considering.

"Then explain it to me," she says, patient.

"I'm breaking up with her," he says. "I was going to, when she was here, but I couldn't figure out how to do it so I'm going to fly out for a day this weekend and end things."

Alicia closes her eyes. "Please don't do that on my account," she whispers. "Will." She looks up at him. "I don't— I don't want– "

If she's still talking, he can't hear it. He feels the blood pounding in his ears and he looks away, too weak to watch her reject him.

"It just the timing," he thinks she says. "It's just that now's the wrong– "

"Okay," he mumbles, but it isn’t, it really, really isn’t. "I get it, really."

"I don’t want to compete with you," she says, abruptly. "I don’t— What we have is— I like it. And I think… I think if things change that there’s the potential for them to get complicated and I don’t want— I just think it’s a bad idea to… change things, during law school. And I want— I want you to be my _friend_."

"I am your friend," he says, and he’s almost offended. "I thought I was, anyway. Leesh— "

"Okay," she says. She reaches across the table for his hand and gives it a squeeze. "Good."

"Yeah," he agrees, squeezing back. "It is." He hesitates, for a moment. "I’m still breaking up with Helena," he adds. "Don’t— Don’t feel bad, it’s— I think I’ve outgrown her, is all." It’s a half truth, but it lets him save a bit of face, so he holds onto it with all his might.

"Okay," she whispers.

He looks down at their hands, and it’s stupid but he takes advantage of the moment, strokes her knuckles with his thumb and her skin is _so_ soft. When he looks up, her eyes are closed and her jaw is clenched tight and he can’t figure out what she’s thinking, can’t figure out what she’s feeling.

"I should go," she murmurs, finally. "I wanted to review my notes before Con Law."

"Okay," he says, releasing her. "And look, after class, if you wanna get dinner, I promise I won’t read anything into it. I just, um, I could kind of use your help getting up to speed for Property, so… "

"I’d like that," she agrees, withdrawing her hand and getting up. "See you in class."

When he shows up at Helena’s apartment a week later, one look at her face is enough to tell him that she knows what’s coming.

"It’s her, isn’t it?" she asks, and Will shakes his head.

"It’s not," he insists. "I promise, Helena, it’s not her, it’s me. This is me, trying to be a good guy and not— "

"Did you fuck her?" she asks.

"No." Will’s voice is hard, but then he shakes his head, looks down at his lap as he confesses. "I kissed her. On Christmas. But we’re not— "

"Are you in love with her?" Helena snaps.

"Doesn’t matter." Will squeezes his eyes closed tight. "She doesn’t want me, either way, so— "

"Are you seriously going to try to make me feel sorry for you right now?" she asks. "Just go. Just— Just go."

"Helena— "

"Go!" she screams. "Go!"

He does, and when he steps off the plane at National, Alicia’s standing at the gate, waiting for him. "I thought you might want company," she says with a sheepish smile.

"Thanks," he says, pulling her into a hug.

"Janice has taken over the apartment," she admits as she pulls away. "Well, her and some med student she met at brunch."

"She moves that fast?" Will asks.

"I’m afraid to go home," Alicia confirms. "I thought— If I was going to go somewhere to study, this seemed as good a place as any."

"I would have thought the diner," he says. "Or the library. There’s my place, too, if you want." 

They end up back at his apartment, passing a beer back and forth between them as they read. "Owen might come out for spring break," she says, breaking an hour of comfortable, productive silence.

"Yeah?" he asks her, looking up from his book with a smile. "That would be great. I really do want to meet him."

She nods. "I mean, it’s Owen, so it might not happen, but he asked if I’d mind, earlier."

"I get the feeling that, when it comes to Owen, you’ll never mind," he admits.

"Unless it’s during finals," she says. "Then I don’t want to see anyone at all."

"Not even me?" he pretends to pout and she laughs, nudges his knee with her own. 

"I always want to see you," she says, and her voice is soft and earnest.

"Leesh," he breathes, watching, waiting, _wanting_ — 

"I should go," she says, shaking her head. "They _must_ be done by now, right?"

In the end, she flies to Chicago during the break because Owen decided against coming to visit and she misses him. Will’s disappointed, because he feels like he’s kind of gotten to know Owen over the past few months, listening to long, rambling messages on Alicia’s answering machine that Will suspects are designed to rattle. He feels like he’s kind of gotten to know Owen, and he kind of thinks that Owen is nothing like his sister and he wants to know more, wants to _understand_ , as if maybe getting to know Owen would make the last of the puzzle pieces fall into place.

More than that, though, he kind of wants to know what she’s told Owen about _him_. She’s said _something_ , he knows, because sometimes the messages say things like _I hope you’re having fun with Mister Georgetown_ or _say 'hi' to Mister Georgetown for me_ and from the way Alicia blushes and rushes to silence the machine, he knows exactly who _Mister Georgetown_ is.

In the end, he doesn’t get to meet Owen, and when Alicia comes back from Chicago they fall back into their familiar pattern of working together and eating together and laughing together and falling asleep watching movies on his futon together but never, never crossing that line again. They brush up against it, sometimes. They brush up against it constantly, but when they do he backs down out of respect for her and she backs down because she’s made it clear that she doesn’t want to cross it. 

When he’s feeling sorry for himself, he thinks about that day in the coffee shop, thinks about words like _timing_ and _competition_ and he comforts himself by believing that it isn’t that she doesn’t want _him_ , it’s that she doesn’t want him _now_ , doesn’t want _anyone_ right now. Alicia’s brilliant and focused, and he’s seen enough of their class get distracted by boyfriends and girlfriends and fuck buddies that it makes sense, to him, why she’d want to avoid dating anyone at all.

He’s okay with it, because for all that he wants to touch her and kiss her and tell her how much he loves her, he doesn’t really want anything to change. He likes what they have, likes the easiness of her laughter and the way she knows without asking when he’s having a bad day. He already knows, knows deep in his bones that the lines won’t be there forever. By the end of 1L, he already has plans for when they’re not in law school anymore, plans for dinner and flowers and _I love yous_. It’ll happen, he thinks. It’s just a matter of when.

She comes home from Chicago for 2L with a boyfriend in tow and it doesn’t really faze him because the boyfriend’s going back to Chicago and he knows, he _knows_ that whatever they have, it’s strong enough that a long distance relationship can’t possibly compare. Besides, it’s not like he’s stayed celibate, either. She may not want a law school fuck buddy, but sometimes something meaningless is exactly what he needs so he takes it. He has his string of meaningless affairs and she keeps the long distance boyfriend and in his mind, at least, it’s kind of the same thing. He figures that they’re both just killing time until they graduate, until they’re no longer classmates and competitors and the timing makes more sense.

She comes back from spring break in 3L and she’s quiet when he meets her at the airport, quiet over dinner, quiet when she curls up on his futon to study.

"Okay, seriously, what’s wrong?" he asks, holding out a beer bottle. "You can tell me now, or I can get you drunk and you can tell me later, but the silent treatment’s got to— "

"Peter asked me to marry him," she says, simply. She takes the beer from his hand. "I’m just thinking." 

He is absolutely floored, too shocked to know how to respond. Too shocked to say anything at all until she makes a face at him and he laughs, in spite of himself.

She shrugs. "I told him I thought it was too soon," she says. "It is, right?"

His lungs feel too tight and he clears his throat, grabs a beer of his own. "I don’t know," he admits. "It seems… I mean, I didn’t realize that you guys were that serious."

"It’s been almost two years," she points out, as if that means anything. "I don’t know. I just— I feel like we’ve spent them leading separate lives, and I feel like… "

"Yeah," he agrees, jumping in when she hesitates. "No, that makes total sense," he adds. "Jeez, for all you know he could be a nightmare to live with."

"Yeah," she echoes, eyes searching his and he wishes that he could figure out what she was looking for. 

"Also, I mean, do you really even love him? I know it’s been two years but you don’t really talk about him all that much and you’ve never— "

"I think I do," she says, cautiously. "I— " 

He winces, and she looks away. 

"I don’t think love is something you should really have to _think_ about," he mumbles. "I think you either feel it, or you don’t." He wants so badly to touch her, wants so badly to _tell_ her, wants so badly for her to look up because he’s pretty sure that if she’d just meet his eyes, she would _know_. 

"Maybe," she admits. "Anyway, I didn’t give him an answer, yet, so… "

Will nods. "Good," he says, and he sounds way more relieved than he meant to sound. "I mean– I meant that— " He doesn’t clarify. He doesn’t touch her, doesn’t tell her, and he certainly doesn’t kiss her. Even though he’s glad he ended things with Helena, he still feels kind of guilty about that kiss at Christmas and he’s not about to put Alicia in that kind of position, not about to make her feel like she has something to be ashamed of because he kind of thinks she carries around more unnecessary guilt than anyone he’s ever known.

She looks up at him then, smiles, then shakes her head and laughs. "I know," she says. "It’s fine. Really." She sticks her tongue out at him. "You wanna go get ice cream?"

They go for ice cream, and she doesn’t mention the proposal again so he kind of forgets that the offer is still pending. He just kind of assumes that she’s going to say no. When she shows up at his door the night before graduation, the last thing he expects is to see a ring on her finger.

"You said yes," he says, softly, eyes transfixed by the way the diamond picks up the light.

"I did," she says. "I— I’m pregnant."

He swallows, hard, eyes darting down to her belly for a moment then back up to meet her eyes. "You’re— ?"

"Yeah," she confirms. "I— " She looks away. "I’m sorry, Will."

"Hey," he whispers, pulling her into a hug. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

**Author's Note:**

>  _ **Mens Rea**_ , literally translated, means "guilty mind." It refers to the mental state required for an act (the _actus reus_ ) to be criminal. _Mens rea_ is what Alicia and Will are talking about when they have their conversation about purposely versus knowingly. A purposeful _mens rea_ requires that the defendant have, as his conscious object, the result of his actions. A knowing _mens rea_ requires that he be aware that it is practically certain that his actions will bring about the result, but he doesn't necessarily have to _want_ the result to happen. Will's example of blowing up a plane is, actually, the classic example to help demonstrate the difference. The intended victim of the explosion was killed purposely, the other victims are killed knowingly. _Mens rea_ is generally an element of the crime that must be proven beyond a reasonable doubt in order for the defendant to be convicted. So, for example, if it is a crime to knowingly possess stolen property and the defendant was totally unaware that the property he was in possession of was stolen, then he's not guilty of the crime of knowingly possessing stolen property even if he did, in fact, possess stolen property. 
> 
> **First possession, first-in-time, and Will's reference to foxes**. First possession is a theory of property ownership that says, basically, that the first person to possess or occupy a piece of property (i.e., first-in-time) is gains a right to the property. There are a ton of other theories of property ownership out there, this is just one of them. The question with first possession is, of course, what does it mean to possess something. That's where the foxes come in. Virtually every first year Property class covers a case called _Pierson v. Post_ , 3 Cai. R. 175, 2 Am. Dec. 264 (N.Y. 1805). In that case, Post was pursuing a fox along a public beach with his hunting dogs. Pierson, knowing that Post was pursuing the fox, captured and killed it. Post sued Pierson for possession of the fox and the Court held that mere pursuit of a wild animal does not give one a legal right to it. The court held that title to the animal goes to the person who deprives the wild animal of its natural liberty because possession occurs at that point and not before. 


End file.
